


Red Wings, Blue Sky

by I_K_Ros



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cryptid Hunters, Dragon AU, Lance wants to kiss mothman, M/M, Mothman, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_K_Ros/pseuds/I_K_Ros
Summary: Keith and Shiro are moving yet again, this time to the city of Point Pleasant, West Virginia. And, unbeknownst to them, the local team of teenaged cryptid enthusiasts are determined to uncover some paranormal secrets, even if those secrets belong to their new neighbors.





	Red Wings, Blue Sky

They were moving again. It had only been two years since they moved into this house, since they’d appeared in this town as strangers. He’d gone to school, graduated, his brother worked from home—they’d made no friends, attended no events. Not by choice, particularly. Strangers weren’t always welcome in these backwater towns. And now they were leaving, packing up everything they owned into a rented moving truck that waited out front, set to move to another tiny, unfriendly town in the middle of nowhere.

“Keith!” his brother’s muffled voiced called from somewhere else in their little house. “Come give me a hand!”

He gave the room—his bedroom for the last two years, now bare and empty—one more look before leaving it for the last time. “Where are you?”

“Basement!”

Keith went down the short hall then through the living room and to the stairs leading down to the basement. “What is it?” he asked as he started down, one gloved hand sliding against the wall.

“Help me carry the pool table out to the truck.” The speaker came into view when Keith reached the bottom of the stairs, standing beside the last piece of furniture in the house. His brother, Shiro, was taller than he was, just about six feet, and broad in the shoulders, with black hair like his own, but cut short and unusual for its shock of white that fell over his forehead. A noticeable scar stretched over the bridge of his nose. He smiled at Keith, resting a hand on the table in question. “Just a few boxes left, after this.”

Nodding, Keith went around to the other side of the table and gripped the bottom edge, prepared to lift. Shiro mirrored him, and together they easily carried the pool table up the stairs, through the empty living room, and out the front door. As soon as they were outside, Keith knew they were being watched. Their neighbors, as subtle as they tried to be, were curious.

“Maybe next time we should live outside of town,” Keith muttered, carefully backing down the front steps, and Shiro grinned at him.

“And not even know about the block party we weren’t invited to? That’s no fun.”

“You’re a masochist.”

They hauled the pool table across the yard and up the short loading ramp and into the truck, then strapped it in place against the wall. As they turned to leave, Shiro patted Keith’s shoulder and offered a half smile.

“It won’t bother you forever.”

Keith shrugged, not sure if he believed that.

Now that the pool table was loaded, only the few boxes Shiro had mentioned remained. Within minutes, the house sat empty and pristine.

The brothers stood at the curb, rental truck loaded and ready to go, looking at their former home. It had a small front porch that Shiro had built last summer, and dark blue window frames stood out against white paint, all freshly coated only a few weeks ago. A SOLD sign was stuck in the front corner of the well-kept lawn.

“Maybe we should come back here someday,” Shiro mused, hands on his hips. “I liked this house.”

“You’d just get mad at the other people who lived here for not taking good enough care of it, and then remodel. Again.”

Shiro shrugged. “Keeps my hands busy.”

Another few seconds passed, then both of them turned and pulled the trailer door down, their belongings safely stored inside; Keith caught one last glimpse of his bike before the door was shut, latched, and locked. Wordlessly, the two climbed into the truck cab, and they drove away. Keith had his feet up on the dashboard within seconds, ignoring Shiro’s disapproving glance, and slid down in his seat with his arms folded over his chest. He kept his gaze locked on the window, watching the familiar town pass by, in order to avoid the look Shiro was giving him.

The older male turned his attention back to the road and relaxed in his seat, one hand on the wheel. “Don’t sulk.”

“I hate long truck rides.”

“It’s not that far.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, but didn’t otherwise respond. Three days cross country sure sounded like it was pretty far. Especially in a big, slow truck like this one. If he’d been on his bike, he could have crossed the distance in half the time. Less, if Shiro wasn’t so insistent on the truck. He knew better than to bring that up, though. You could only have—and lose—the same argument so many times before it wasn’t worth it anymore. Shiro always won those arguments.

Three days in a truck was going to suck.

X

It was completely silent except for a few lonely crickets. Well, and the occasional growling of Hunk’s stomach.

“Hunk, seriously!” Lance hissed, binoculars pressed firmly to his eyes. “You’re gonna scare it off!”

“Sorry!”

Without looking away from the screen of her tablet, Pidge rolled her eyes. “If there’s even anything out here.”

“There _is!_ I’m telling you guys, I saw something!”

“Okay, sure, Lance, you saw something,” Hunk shifted uncomfortably, his legs cramping from hiding in the bushes for so long, “but it’s super late and we’re going to get in trouble again!”

“Only if you get caught sneaking back in through your window.”

“Not all of us are the size of a gnome, Pidge.”

“Shhh!” Lance lowered the binoculars long enough to glare at the other two, and they fell silent.

Crickets chirped, the wind rustled in the trees and the bushes and the tall grass, and Hunk’s stomach let out a quiet gurgle.

Lance gave a frustrated groan. “Okay, we’ll go back.”

Together, the three teens climbed out of their hiding place to the accompaniment of cracking twigs then stood, stretching after the cramped space they’d made for themselves in the bushes. Lance dusted himself off, took a small flashlight from his coat pocket, and flicked it on. Guided by the small beam, the trio began picking their way through the trees until they came upon Sandhill Road, bordered on the other side by yet more forest.

“I can’t believe we didn’t see anything. This was such a good spot!” Lance’s voice was punctuated by the soft steps of three pairs of tennis shoes on asphalt.

“Well, maybe it was just passing through,” Hunk tried to comfort his friend, but Lance was too busy scanning the night sky for any sign of movement against the stars.

A few minutes later, they came upon their bikes, stashed behind some bushes and out of sight of the road. The ride back to town wasn’t a very long one, but Hunk had been right to say it was getting late, and as determined as Lance had been to stay out longer, they were all getting tired.

So, weary and slow, they pedaled back to town, and separated with silent waves towards their own houses as Lance turned up Blocker Drive.

His exhaustion quickly caught up to him as Lance started up the last long, low hill. Trailer homes passed by slowly to his right, and just a couple house with a vast expanse of lawn between them were to the left. When he passed the last house and trailer, the pavement gave way to gravel, and he had to stand up on the pedals of his bike to keep himself going. At the end of the street, surrounded by lawn and trees that separated the property from their neighbors, his has sat neat and cozy. Through the front windows, he could see that the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen were on, but it was otherwise dark and silent. If he was careful, it would stay that way until his mom woke up for work in a few hours.

Moving quietly now, he slipped around the side of the house to where four other bikes were already neatly stacked along the back, and he rolled his into its usual spot without a sound before slinking towards the house. The window on the back porch—his usual escape route—was still unlatched, and he heaved it open with a muffled grunt of effort. It locked into place once it was all the way open, and he dropped his backpack inside before bending his long frame through the space.

Unfolding back to his full lanky height, Lance carefully lowered the window, spun the latch to lock it for the day, and grabbed up his bag. He was halfway across the dining room towards the stairs when the light in the kitchen flicked on, and he froze like a deer in headlights on 62.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, he turned and forced up a lopsided grin. “Hey, Mama.”

X

The rest stop Shiro had pulled into was basically identical to every other rest stop Keith had ever seen. Trees, picnic tables, a designated pet exercise area, reddish brown bricks, and that one panel of ceiling lights that flickered. The shiny metal drinking fountain across from the vending machines was familiar, too.

Keith had been in way too many rest stops in his life. Still, he took advantage of the chance to stretch his legs and back while Shiro was in the men’s room. He was perusing the vending machine when the other male joined him, not that he had any real intention of buying anything.

“Ready?” Shiro stopped by him and glanced at the machine’s collection of chips, cookies, and gum.

“Yeah.”

They both turned and went back outside into the cool night air, alone aside from the wildlife hiding in the darkness that surrounded the nearly vacant lot. It was eerily silent, the way it is before a big storm, or when smaller creatures sensed a predator nearby.

Shiro unlocked the truck and they both climbed up into the cab.

“How much farther?” Keith asked, already tucking himself into his jacket to sleep.

“Probably ten hours. We’ll stop for breakfast in five or six.”

The truck rumbled to life, and the dash clock proudly displayed its glowing 2:06AM. Keith stared at the numbers as he pulled his hood up and then low over his eyes.

Glancing over at him from the driver’s seat, Shiro smiled a little and moved the truck back towards the freeway. “I’ll wake you for breakfast burritos and orange juice.”

“Coffee,” came the soft, mostly-asleep answer.

“And your iced caramel macchiato,” Shiro teased, but Keith didn’t answer, already sound asleep in the warmth of his jacket.

Hours later, Keith woke up to a hand on his shoulder.

“Mm?” He shifted, rolling his neck before sitting up and actually opening his eyes. Morning sun filled the cab, and Shiro was in the process of guiding the truck to an exit.

“Where are we?” Keith scanned the trees and buildings outside as they left the interstate and entered a small business district that seemed to consist of parking lots more than anything else.

“Indianapolis. Breakfast time.”

Now Keith looked at the dash to find that it was just after eight in the morning.

“We’ll be there in about four more hours,” Shiro said, answering the question Keith hadn’t yet asked.

“Great.”

The truck was too big for either of them to risk the drive thru lane of the local fast food restaurant, so Shiro parked along the curb in one of the lot corners, away from the other early morning visitors, and they went inside.

“Use the bathroom while we’re here, I want to get to Point Pleasant as quick as we can.”

Keith nodded and split off towards the restrooms while Shiro got in line to order. He was only gone for about a minute, and when he came back, it didn’t look like the line had moved at all.

“Busy morning,” he commented, slipping into place beside his brother.

Shiro’s attention didn’t shift from the menu suspended above the counter. “Breakfast rush while everyone heads to work.”

Slowly, they made their way closer and closer to the counter, and finally stepped up to order their breakfast. Keith did not, as Shiro had joked, order an iced caramel macchiato, but he did get a large mocha to go with his four burritos and two hash browns. Shiro got even more food, and it took several minutes of waiting off to the side for their order to be ready.

“If I didn’t know better,” Keith said as they left the restaurant, “I’d think you were going to get fat from how much you eat.”

Shiro laughed and bumped him playfully. “But you know better.”

They sat and ate for a few minutes once they were back in the truck, watching the city continue to come to life around them. The June sun was already high and hot even at barely a quarter past eight; by the time they got to Point Pleasant, it would be like stepping into an oven. For now, though, they had the truck’s air conditioning, and took full advantage of it as they continued their drive towards their new home.

X

Giggles from the staircase made Lance sigh, but he didn’t pause in his scrubbing. He finished the stone tile he’d been working on for the last minute, dipped his brush in the bucket of hot, soapy water beside him, and moved onto the next tile. Only one more row, and he’d be finished.

Being caught sneaking back into the house in the wee hours of the morning wasn’t the _worst_ thing that had ever happened to him, but Lance thought it was probably pretty close to the time Veronica pushed him off the tire swing out back when they were kids, and he bit clean through his lip. At least then, he’d gotten coddled and she’d been the one in trouble. The stitches had seemed really cool.

Idly, he tongued the thin scar that ran along the inside of his lower lip, all that was left of the incident, and moved to the next tile. His back and knees were starting to ache, but at least he wasn’t grounded. Having to scrub the kitchen top to bottom might suck, but he would still be allowed out of the house once he finished.

More giggles sounded, along with hushed whispers that weren’t quiet enough.

“Roni said he snuck out again.” That was Marco.

“Bet Mom was so mad,” his other brother, Luis, sounded delighted at the prospect.

Lance sighed, rolled his eyes, and dipped his brush. “I can hear you.”

The two younger teens watching him from the stairs immediately bolted up towards their room, and Lance let himself laugh. His grin stayed in place for the last of the tiles, and then he sat back on his heels to survey his work. Freshly wiped counters and polished oak cabinets shone under the lightbulbs he’d dusted a few hours ago. Everything was spotless, perfectly arranged and organized just the way his mom liked it. Once the floor dried, he’d put the dining table and chairs back in front of the windows and the door to the back porch, and he’d be done.

Standing, Lance dropped the brush into the bucket, popped his spine, then picked up the bucket and hauled it towards the laundry room at the back of the house to dump out in the sink. He left it propped at an angle to drip dry, along with the rubber gloves he’d been wearing, and checked to make sure he hadn’t left out any cleaning products. When his mom got home from work that night, there would be nothing in the world for her to be mad at him about.

Lance wandered back out towards the living room and kitchen, hands on his hips. The floor would be dry in another ten minutes or so, he guessed, and there was nothing to do in that time but wait.

Pulling his phone from the back pocket of his shorts, the teen fell backwards onto the couch and turned on the screen. His group chat with Pidge and Hunk had several waiting messages that he hadn’t noticed while he’d been cleaning.

_Hunkalicious: Made it!_

_Scully Doesn’t Believe This: Me, too. Matt was still up, but I have too much blackmail for him to rat me out to Mom and Dad >:)_

_Hunkalicious: Lance?_

_Scully Doesn’t Believe This: He so got caught_

_Hunkalicious: No, no, he probably just fell asleep already_

_Scully Doesn’t Believe This: He’s in jail. House arrest._

_Hunkalicious: No way_

Lance scowled and rolled his eyes.

_Cryptocoolologist: Shut up, Pidge._

_Scully Doesn’t Believe This: You totally got caught!_

_Cryptocoolologist: Is it my fault my mom has super powers? No._

_Hunkalicious: What happened?_

_Cryptocoolologist: She was lying in wait for me when I got back like some sort of ninja_

_Scully Doesn’t Believe This: INCREDIBLE_

Vengeful, Lance clicked into the group chat settings and changed Pidge’s nickname from “Scully Doesn’t Believe This” to “Evil Gremlin.”

_Evil Gremlin: Hey!_

_Cryptocoolologist: Am I wrong?_

_Evil Gremlin: …no._

Hunk sent the crying-laughing face, so Lance sent the sunglasses emoji, then sat up enough to check how the kitchen floor was drying. There were only a few scattered wet spots left, so he shoved himself to his feet and started putting the dining room furniture—also freshly washed and polished—back into place. His phone beeped where he’d left it on the couch, but he ignored it until he was finished.

_Evil Gremlin: So are you grounded or what??_

_Cryptocoolologist: Naw, just had to hardcore clean the kitchen_

_Hunkalicious: That’s not so bad_

_Cryptocoolologist: Yeah, I just finished so I’m good if you want to hang_

_Hunkalicious: Can’t, helping Mom at the library today, maybe later?_

_Evil Gremlin: You can come help me work on Rover_

_Cryptocoolologist: Need any more help, Hunk?_

_Evil Gremlin: >:/_

_Hunkalicious: I’ll ask!_

Lance clicked the chat closed back to its bubble, gave the kitchen one last look over, and headed for the stairs. “Marco! Luis!” he called his brothers’ names as he climbed, the paused at the top.

“What?” two voices sing-songed back at him, and he turned down the upstairs hall towards their shared room. The noises of a videogame reached him through the partially open door, probably one of their fighting tournament games.

“Hungry?”

The noises stopped immediately, and then two identical beaming faces appeared as the door flew open. “Yeah!”

Grinning, Lance propped his hands on his hips. “Mom and Roni are at work, so I’m cooking!”

Luis stuck his tongue out. “Can’t we order pizza?”

“Aw, come on, Lance ruffled his little brother’s curly brown hair, “you don’t want to try the new recipe Hunk gave me?”

The sound of his best friend’s name lit up both boys’ brown eyes. “Yeah!”

“That’s what I thought. Come on!”

Instead of moving back to the stairs, Lance stepped out of the way as his younger brothers hurtled towards them. He only needed to be caught up in that mess once before he learned better.

His phone beeped.

_Hunkalicious: She says you’re welcome to stop by!_

_Cryptocoolologist: I’ll bring the Terrible Two for the afternoon reading program_

_Hunkalicious: Okay!_

He tucked the phone away and followed the path his brothers had taken, prepared to make a mess in the kitchen he’d only just finished cleaning.


End file.
